


where there are concrete walls

by rayfelle



Category: Control (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study?, F/F, Getting Together, confident lesbian emily, panicked lesbian jesse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayfelle/pseuds/rayfelle
Summary: Jesse is the Director. She also has a crush.(spoiler alert: Emily knows)
Relationships: Jesse Faden/Emily Pope
Comments: 10
Kudos: 164





	where there are concrete walls

This is the Oldest House and Jesse is the Director now. Or, maybe it is The Director? In the Oldest House everything has a meaning, each word carries more than it lets on, titles reflect more than just a position.

From the hotline Trench echoes a comment about how the Director _always_ knows these things, by instinct and experience.

Jesse closes her eyes and breathes in. Close by her ear Polaris tinkles like windchimes in summer, morning dew in a spiderweb. She is a warm presence. Always there, always protecting, an advice that calms and guards, lets Jesse have the courage to take one step after another into the dark that is the future.

It was both true in the orphanage and after, when all Jesse knew was how to run and never stop. And it’s true now, when the Service Weapon vibrates quietly against her palm and the Oldest House is a constant, slightly muted echo of Hiss chanting.

Here, standing underneath the black triangle tip of the statue that represents the Board, Jesse doesn’t hear anything else but her thoughts and the rustle of people who chose to stay in Central Executive.

“Jesse? Is something the matter?” Emily sounds concerned; her nose wrinkled cutely as she squints Jesse’s way. Her hand hovers over yet another report that has been started in her neat handwriting – something to do with the Foundation, probably.

Jesse swallows. It takes her a moment to find the right words, as always. “Ah, no. Sorry. Just thinking about… things. Stuff.”

Emily cocks her head to the side. “If you say so. You can always come to me if you have any questions, I love explaining things. But not as much as I love researching them!” The woman’s voice raises up at the end of her sentence, the words tapering off into pleased giggles.

A ball of warmth sits in the bottom of Jesse’s stomach. It’s not an unfamiliar warmth, not really.

“Thanks, Emily. For everything.” Jesse swallows again. She sounds awkward even to her own ears, more than usual. But perhaps with how new she is here, to these people so used to things much weirder than one awkward, fumbling woman, Jesse is just normal. Ordinary.

Emily leaves with a wave of her hand, one that soon is whizzing over the report as if it had never left the words linger on the paper unfinished in the first place. The rustle of other researchers still sane and safe from the Hiss picks up in volume again. It’s a sound that Jesse prefers over the chanting.

“I guess this is a problem I have to figure out on my own, huh?” Jesse whispers under her nose to Polaris, predicts the warm affirmation of her suspicions that follows soon after.

With a sigh Jesse looks up at the black pyramid statue, the visual and physical representation of the Board that, thankfully, is not the Board. Or maybe the whole House is the Board and they just don’t know it yet. It doesn’t matter. Jesse just likes to pretend that glaring at this representation is helping her think.

(it’s not, but that’s also not the point)

…

The Hiss are like roaches.

Jesse shoots one and three more show up. Smashes those three to pieces and then five more are just taround the corner. Then they retreat for a while. Maybe she is wrong and the Hiss are _actually_ like a hydra – kill one head and three others grow in their stead. Only this fight is with an entity that cannot be seen or touched, a _thing_ that burrows into the head of its victims and breaks them – violently, cruelly, _fully_.

Jesse knows she needs to do this. She knows that she _has_ to do this.

For herself, for Polaris. For Dylan.

Maybe also for the Oldest House and the Bureau. But the Bureau was the one to ruin her family, to make her life an endless struggle, it was the one to take and change Dylan for the worst. It broke her brother, no worse than how the Hiss breaks its own victims. And it was in Dylan’s head as well, the Hiss, the same way the Darling burrowed in there, probably.

Maybe Jesse doesn’t want to do it for the FBC after all. But for those few good that are a part of it, though, for those people she will fight.

The dust shifts upwards in front of Jesse. The remnants of another defeated Hiss agent. Jesse breathes in, lets her exhaustion out in a steady _whoosh_ of air. The Oldest House is quiet and cold around her, impersonal to the highest degree. Like it has always been, probably. Like it will always be. Then again, it has never been about the building. It’s the Board, the previous Directors, the decisions made out of free will and out of influence.

Jesse doesn’t know for sure, but the Board seems to have been a part of everything.

Not with her, her decisions and her actions. Jesse will pretend to play the prefect Director/Slave/Player, a snake hiding in tall grass for an opportunity to strike.

Jesse’s footsteps echo through the empty offices as she makes her way to another Control Point. She’s tired. But Jesse does not want to go back to the Director’s office, where it stinks so much of Trench and the Board. No, she’ll go to Emily, maybe. Or Ahti’s old office, where everything is familiar and smells of cleaning supplies.

It’s safe there.

Jesse sighs again. She is so tired.

…

“Here you are. Then again, somehow, I’m not surprised. You’re different than the rest of us, Jesse.” Emily has her hands on her hips, the usual packet of notes and documents missing. It’s strange seeing her without it.

Unusual.

Jesse rolls to sleep on her back on Ahti’s couch. The worn leather underneath her is warm from her body heat. “Here I am.”

Emily purses her lips. Today she’s wearing lip gloss, something bright. It’s hard to tell the color when the light in Ahti’s office is so dull.

“You sound very tired, Jesse.” Emily takes two steps and crouches before her. She smells floral, like a meadow when all the flowers are in full bloom. “Want me to do a check up on you? Some tests, to be sure you’re fine?”

“I’m pretty sure we both know I’m not _fine_.” Jesse wants to curl up and pretend nothing is real and everything has been nothing but a charade so far. Polaris tinkles in her head with soft laughter.

Emily’s fingers are surprisingly soft when they ghost over Jesse’s cheek. “Well, _fine_ is a rather misleading word, now is it? What is fine for one person, is not fine for someone else. For example, you think that knowing only the basics and fundaments of a problem and solution is fine, while I prefer to dissect them thoroughly and completely to deem it fine.” There is quiet laughter weaving in-between her words. A scolding as well, hidden beneath everything else.

“That’s why you’re in charge of my Research Department.” Jesse breathes in the scent of her past and her present. She opens her eyes and forces herself to be ready for yet another fight to come.

“A good Director knows and acknowledges their weaknesses and finds others to cover for them. Especially in the FBC.” Emily stands up and her lips are still pulled into a tiny smile. Her lip gloss is pale pink in color. “A good Director also knows when to rest.”

There is darkness and then Jesse opens her eyes again. Time has passed and it’s hard to tell how much. She sits up and looks around the now abandoned janitor’s office. It feels incomplete without Ahti’s presence here.

Jesse doesn’t quiet know if the Emily that was here was real, or just something that the Oldest Hose created to make Jesse stand again.

“I’ll ask her, when I see her again.” Jesse promises to the silence and ghost of Ahti.

Polaris hums in agreement. At least she is still here, an unchangeable truth in a world that no longer seems constant.

…

<your duty/punishment/work as the Director is not done. but you can rest/breathe for now>

Jesse purses her lips before she replies to the Board. “Thanks.” The murmured buzzing that is the usual sound of the Board’s messages is something she will never get used to.

The black representation of the Board feels like it’s looming above her.

“You keep staring at that a lot lately.” Emily comes to stand next to Jesse. She’s not wearing any lip gloss this time. “Are you and the Board having secret meetings now? Or… well, even more secret than usual, I suppose.”

Jesse glances down for just a second, to see just how close Emily’s hand is to her own. It would be so easy to reach out and hold onto the woman, to absorb her body heat through her own skin.

Jesse focuses back on the Board’s statue. “I was given permission to rest, nothing else.”

Emily hums. She cocks her hip to one side, it bumps against Jesse’s, but Emily makes no comment on that. “I didn’t know you needed permission to rest? Nothing in the documents ever pointed towards former Directors receiving these kinds of missions.”

“Wasn’t Trench the closest to the Board?”

Perhaps it is but a play of light and Jesse’s own imagination, but Emily looks mischievous when she tilts her head to the side, glances at Jesse from the corner of her eye. “That was Director Northmoor. The first Director chosen by the Board.”

Jesse hesitates. Emily does not.

The feeling of Emily’s fingers tangling with her own, the warmth of them, how right it seems to hold Emily’s hand – Jesse breathes through her own stiffness and awkwardness before she squeezes back.

“He came before Trench. Doctor Ash wrote about him.” Jesse swallows.

Emily leans in even closer. She has different perfume on today. “And now his corpse powers the Oldest House. But details about that are classified, as with most things within the FBC.” She smiles, pulls her hand out of Jesse’s and walks away.

<new problem/burden/duty has risen>

Jesse doesn’t look away from Emily. “Yeah, sure. As it usually happens.”

…

“Before I go, can I ask you something?” Jesse swings the Service Weapon to the side out of nervousness. It keeps changing forms with each swing.

Emily is leafing through a stack of documents, nothing that seems too important. “Of course, always. What do you want to know?”

Jesse hesitates, gathers herself together. “Were you down at Ahti’s office? When I was napping there, I mean.” She focuses on the Service Weapon, frowning down upon it.

“I was.” Emily taps the stack of documents against the table. She doesn’t elaborate.

…

There is smoke coming out of the Service Weapon, a bruise on Jesse’s cheek. Under her feet the rubble of continuous attacks crunches with a grating, ugly sound. Before her there are still a couple of floating Hiss Charged, their twisted, distorted forms a grotesque reminder of how truly horrifying the Hiss can be.

Jesse raises her hand and pulls a nearby fire extinguisher to her, keeps it hovering close by as she walks closer to the enemy. One step at a time.

The Hiss Charged shriek shrilly as they the notice her. Jesse laughs as she launches the fire extinguisher at them, watches it blow up with a loud bang before she breaks into a run. The Service Weapon changes to a new form, Jesse aims and then everything turns into a blur of red smoke and bullet noise.

There are new wounds on her arms and bruises on her legs when she slammed into a wall or the sharp edge of a decoration. The Hiss have been cleared from this area of the Oldest House. The Board is pleased, judging by their words.

Not that Jesse trusts them. _It_?

She doesn’t trust anyone, except for Polaris. Maybe Emily. Jesse has yet to lose all hope in others.

On the wall an inter-bureau phone starts to ring. Jesse watches it for a second, then picks it up with a press of a button. “Yeah?”

“Jesse, glad I caught you before you’ve moved to another area.” Emily breathes a sigh. “Can you go down to the furnace? One of the rangers said it has been acting strange lately. I just got their report. Well, _got_ is a rather imprecise wording, as someone found it for me in one of the many piles of reports scattered around here.”

Jesse laughs. “A Hiss kind of strange? Or the usual bureau strange?”

“ _Please_. Those are one and the same now, you should know better.” Emily tuts. “Be safe, though. The furnace has had its share of organic components burned in it previously. Dr. Pierse was rather unlucky, the poor girl, among others, of course.” Her voice lowers with melancholy, though not for long.

“Nothing here is simple, huh?” Jesse tries to joke. It probably falls flat, though death no longer affects her as it would a normal person. The Oldest House does that to those who stay here for too long, even the many, many documents she has found around the place prove that.

Emily chuckles as well. “No, definitely not here.”

…

The furnace is still burning. A possible OoP, from what little Jesse has gathered. The tape left by it from the dead researcher is proof enough that whatever the furnace really is, whatever affects it, it started long before the Hiss. Or maybe the Hiss just made it worse, like it does with anything and anyone it touches.

Jesse stands far enough that the heat is not unbearable.

“What is your deal, huh?” Jesse breathes in the scent of flames and tries not to remember Ordinary.

The furnace, of course, just burns. An eternal, uncontrollable fire that eats away everything it touches. Jesse steps closer, carefully. The heat rises with every step, of course, but it’s strange. It has a pull, different from the OoPs Jesse has had to deal with until now.

Polaris shivers in unease and Jesse stops.

Within the furnace something flares up, an explosion of fire so unexpected that Jesse has barely raised her hands in a feeble attempt to protect her eyes that she’s already flying through the air. There are welts already forming on her palms – painful, red and puffy already despite the few seconds that have only just passed.

An unusual fire for an unusual furnace at an unusual building.

“What the fuck?” Jesse groans when she feels the drag of concrete against her back, even through her leather jacket. Her hands really hurt. “ _Fuck_ , this stings.”

It’s quiet. Apart from the roar of flames there is no other sound. No Hiss chanting, no echoes of Hiss corrupted making their way towards Jesse. There is only the furnace and her own panting, the tiny whines that come involuntarily as Jesse moves.

The Oldest House is never truly quiet, is the thing.

<director/slave/player should have known to not touch the furnace/heart>

Jesse wants to spit and curse at the Board. Their commentary is annoying, so very _not needed_ right now. But the Board knows, then, what the furnace is, what it is for. Did he Board place it here? Connections and lies, hidden everything. The Bureau is one large censored spot.

“Yeah, thanks for letting me know.” Jesse sways as she stands, finally.

The furnace is calm, now. Polaris shivers in something alike to an intrigued hum, a curious sound that doesn’t translate into words quite well. But Jesse understands her anyway. After all this time, how could she not?

Jesse looks down on her palms. The burns don’t bleed, but they do sting something fierce. Puffy welts and red patches of burned off skin create a rather interesting mosaic, despite how morbid it feels to find the tiny piece of art between her own injuries.

“Should we do something about the furnace, do you think?” Jesse tries to bend her fingers, but they hurt too much.

Polaris’ answer is a negative. Probably for the best.

“I hope someone at Central Executive has a first aid kit.” Jesse is thankful there is a Control Point just outside the furnace room.

…

“Can you move your fingers freely like this?” Emily ties the last knot of the bandages around Jesse’s hands and pulls away. There is a worried wrinkle between her eyebrows.

Jesse bites her lip to not let any sounds out. Her palms still sting, despite the cream that Emily lathered on them. Maybe there will be scars, maybe there won’t, not that it matters much to her. What is one more scar, be it physical or mental?

“You don’t have to be the Director all the time, you know? When it hurts, it hurts. Even Trench could admit that much at times.” Emily scoots her chair closer to Jesse, so close that their knees bump against each other.

“Nothing to do with being the Director. That’s just how I am.” Jesse flexes her fingers.

There are many jobs in Jesse’s resume. Many temporary houses she stayed in growing up, when she ran around the world in search of Dylan, of an organization that seemed more like a result of a fewer dream than something _real_. She used to be a bright, happy child. Like all children, really. And now she’s Jesse. An awkward, guarded Jesse that has become the Director of a secret government organization.

Emily laughs. She wears laughter well. “Is that so?” She leans closer, just a little. There is something dancing in her eyes. “I will write an additional report on the furnace, get Arish to spread out warning about prolonged exposure to it and the effects of agitating it to the rest of the staff. Maybe we can dwindle the yearly human loss count a little bit.”

“Ah, yeah. That seems like a good idea.” Jesse doesn’t know what to do with herself. She knows she’s sweating, can feel perspiration gathering on the curve of her nose and the back of her neck.

There is nowhere for her to run. Not that she wants to.

“You should rest for now. Let the rangers deal with some of the Hiss.” Emily wraps her fingers around Jesse’s, brings the bandaged palms to eye-level. “Even Directors have working hours, despite the lockdown in place.”

Jesse shivers.

Emily has pink lip gloss on today as well. It shines in the bright lights of the abandoned office room that has been converted into a medic station. Jesse licks her lips and Emily’s eyes seem to follow the motion.

“How about this – a proposal for you, Director.” Emily starts. She’s calm, sure, though there is excitement dancing along the curve of her smile.

Jesse feels her fingers twitch involuntarily. “As Head of Research? Or as a friend?”

“Both, Jesse. One does not negate the other.” Emily inhales, lets the silence linger for a couple of seconds. “You need a break; I want to take you on a date. Of course, on the grounds that our possible romantic involvement will not affect our work relationship and conditions.”

Jesse opens her mouth, closes it. “Huh?”

“The Oldest House is a rather, hm, unusual place for any romantic bonding, but I’m sure we will figure something out. This place is full of surprises and secrets, after all.” Emily places a quick kiss on one of Jesse’s bandaged fingers before standing up. “Now, I need to get back to work, but I will forward you the details later.”

Emily leaves and Jesse sags in her chair. “What just happened?” She touches her cheek, then lets her hand fall in her lap.

Polaris twinkles in amusement.

**Author's Note:**

> idk what im doing but i just wanted some cute lesbian flirting (at which Jesse is failing hard but Emily digs it lol)


End file.
